The old version of this page ranks my relative skills in programming
(and spoken) languages.

This new version answers the question: If programming languages were
countries, how would I relate to them as a visitor and a resident? Because
I do live in these places; each with their different customs and
inhabitants, and reasons for being. And the borders between them are a
cause for strife, and innefficiencies, and evil. And yet their diversity is
a good thing, a source of inspiration and interest.

It would always feel like visiting the past. But a past that makes so much
of a certian kind of sense. The trains run on time, there's an order
and sanity to everything, and citizens are also given great personal
freedom and responsibility, and a vast and noble history informs all.
Almost makes up for having to wear a hat and gloves, and fill out 3 page
forms for every simple task. Pity about the strikes that bring everything to
a screeching halt if a single number is transposed.

(And then there's the strange bordering dutchy of C++, where things are
different, and scary. Don't go there.)

It would only be one in my mind, when I think back to childhood, when small
things were bigger, and the world not fully known. But there's a certian
fondness for the place that set me on my path. And I wish everyone could
experience that, limited as it was.

It'd be the one that I've been flirting with moving to, but I'm too chicken
to take the plunge. On my visits, I can get around; buy things in the
shops, have halting conversations, puzzle out the gist of stories in the
paper. Still, I'm missing much of the context, and it's hard to stay long
enough to immerse myself in the culture and really become a part of it.

And it's so utopian! It all seems so right, they've found such a good way.
But as I listen to them, I wonder, where do the good ideas stop, and the
wild-eyed fervors begin? Have I already been sucked in by these gorgeous
ideas, can this place really be as perfect as it seems?

It's be a place that seems so similar to home it's easy to visit. But
I wish I didn't have to. How did this place get to be so big and important?
It's certianly no better than any other, and has a lot of problems besides.
But somehow it tied itself so tightly to things that we all need that
now you have to go there on business trips.

It would be one I visited young, under strict supervision, but still
it had a big impact on me. Of course these days I know it's only a province
of Lisp, and not a very interesting one, but back then, wow, it really
seemed something!

It'd be another of those places that seems at least superficially so
similar to home that I've never bothered to learn much about it. It has its
own little niche, but I've not found any other reasons to visit it.

It would be a place I remember visiting when young, not quite understanding it,
not connecting with it, but seeing a certian kind of clean, awkward
architectural beauty. I sometimes wonder, did it make a small impression, or
such a deep one I'm not aware? But I've never been back, and I'm not even
sure it's still around. That was long ago, and the map has changed..

It might be foreign to you, but to me, it's home. The place I know broadly
and deeply. With many regional variations, almost all of which I am at home
with and can easily fit into.

Also the place whose flaws I see most clearly, and feel most strongly. What
a shame it's still like this! How slowly we grow, how the past holds us
back! Is the path ahead a good one? No matter where I end up, those will
still be concerns about my native land.

It would be that neighbor to the north, that seems so similar to home when
I visit, but whose foreignness stands out more when I'm away. Kind of a
backup plan, if things go wrong here. And it's great that they do things
differently up there. But they do have some strange ideas and customs.
And they're so similar that I've never seriously thought about moving;
it would be too much bother for too little gain.